


the wedding date

by youheldyourbreath



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, The Wedding Date AU, michelle needs a date for a wedding, peter parker is an escort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 19:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youheldyourbreath/pseuds/youheldyourbreath
Summary: Michelle is not sure how she got here— at her ex-fiancés’ wedding to her half-sister with a hooker. It is a truly bizarre sentence.As she goes through the motions pretending to dance at the reception, Peter whispers in her ear, “At least act like you’re having fun.”She holds him closer and berates herself, “Right, sorry. I just....I can’t believe this is my life.”“Brad’s a dick,” Peter says as he glides her across the floor like a practiced showman, which she supposes he is. After all, that was why she paid him so much money to join her at this clusterfuck of a wedding. “And I’m not so taken with your sister, either,” he whispers in her neck. She fails trying not to shiver.





	the wedding date

Michelle is not sure how she got here— at her ex-fiancés’ wedding to her half-sister with a hooker. It is a truly bizarre sentence. 

As she goes through the motions pretending to dance at the reception, Peter whispers in her ear, “At least act like you’re having fun.”

She holds him closer and berates herself, “Right, sorry. I just....I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Brad’s a dick,” Peter says as he glides her across the floor like a practiced showman, which she supposes he is. After all, that was why she paid him so much money to join her at this clusterfuck of a wedding. “And I’m not so taken with your sister, either,” he whispers in her neck. She fails trying not to shiver. 

“Lena wasn’t trying to hurt me,” she snaps, defending her younger half-sister.

“Oh no?” Peter dips her. She blinks up at him. He is very graceful for a man his height. Slowly, he pulls her back to her feet, flush against his chest. Her own pounds wildly. “Then why did she marry your ex-fiancé?”

Michelle flounders for an answer. Once upon a time, she loved Brad. She proudly wore her own engagement ring on her finger as a symbol of their commitment to each other. MJ imagined their wedding day and the children they might have had. Her little sister had set off an atomic bomb in her relationship and, in the wreckage took Brad for herself. “I don’t know,” she says. 

They have stopped dancing. All of the other attendees are moving to the beat of the music, the kids are giggling near the dessert table, but Michelle and Peter are locked together, unmoving, in the center of it all. 

“I’ve known all kinds of women, MJ,” he speaks lowly. She tries not to think about the sheer number of women. “Lonely women, curious women, horny women, sad women. All of them hired me to give them something they didn’t have, something they felt they needed.” Peter runs his hand up and down her back without thinking. It is a heartbreakingly intimate gesture. “You don’t  need me. Your sister married your old fiancé. But you came to their wedding, you haven’t made a fuss all weekend. You’ve been kind and peaceful and helpful. You didn’t need me here as your shield. You’re your own armor.”

Her lips part in surprise. He tracks her bottom lip with his dark eyes. “What if,” she swallows, “What if I _want_ you?”

Peter does not lift his eyes from her mouth. It is trained there. “You know what I do.” 

She nods. She does know what he does and who he is and how they met. She doesn’t care that she found him in an advertisement for male escorts. She doesn’t care that he has known women. She doesn’t care that his past is complicated and messy. If this wedding is any indication, her past is messy, too.

All MJ knows is she wants him. She wants the Peter that she met at the airport and carried her duffle-bag without question. He wants the Peter that made her laugh loudly at the rehearsal dinner when Brad was in the middle of his groom speech. She wants the Peter that held her hand when Brad kissed her baby sister and made her his wife in the Church. She wants the Peter that all weekend has felt like her friend and confidant. She wants the Peter that looks at her like he can’t quite believe she is real.

“I know what you do,” she slowly winds her fingers in his hair. 

“MJ, I’m scared,” he admits, as he leans in, closing the distance between their searching lips. 

“When was the last time you kissed someone just because you wanted to, Peter?” 

His eyes fall closed, and just before their mouths meet, he whispers, “Ask me again in a minute.” 

* * *

They fall through their hotel bedroom door in a tangle of limbs and muffled smiles. Michelle pushes his suit jacket off of his shoulders and Peter fumbles to find the zipper on the back of her silk dress. He curses into her lips and MJ laughs. It echoes from her chest and makes him blush.

“I can’t find the zipper,” he scrunches his hands in her dress, in frustration.

She pecks his mouth before pulling the light fabric up and over her head. He gawks at the leagues of skin suddenly visible to his eyes. “It didn’t have a zipper, dork.”

He closes his hand around her wrist and pulls her close. She collides against his chest and stops one flat palm on his white, button-down shirt. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

Michelle feels a spike of nervous energy attack her happiness. She worries her lip, “I, uh, I know this is all, like, not real. I know this is what you do for a living—“

His eyes darken to shadows. “MJ, I’m not doing this because of what I do. I doing this because I want you. ”  Peter runs the back of his finger up and down her arm, as if he cannot stop touching her. “It’s like my whole life I’ve been asleep, but, the moment I met you, I woke up.” 

“The money, Peter,” she quietly reminds him.

“I don’t want your money,” he walks her back toward the bed. “I wish we’d met in a different way. I wish you knew how wonderful and strong and funny and brilliant and beautiful I think you are.” Her back hits the bed. He stands at he edge of it, stripping off his clothes, slowly, one button at a time. “Can I show you?”

Her mouth is dry. She knows she is capable of quick wit and an even sharper tongue, but Peter Parker has stunned her silent. MJ barely manages to nod.

He pries her legs apart, one leg at a time. With his guidance, she lifts her hips and Peter pulls her underwear down and off of her, thrown to some nowhere place in their hotel room. Normally, she would have felt exposed, laying bare with her legs open for her partner to see everything, but the way he is looking at her makes her feel sexy and mischievous and _wanted_. Michelle can't remember the last time anyone wanted her. She has been thrown around with no regard for her feelings for years. 

MJ doesn't care how Peter Parker came to be in her life, so long as he stays. 

She quips, “By all means, take your time.”

He blushes, which is delightfully unexpected for someone in his profession, “I’m admiring the view.”

She unhooks her bra, the last vestige of her modesty, and lays completely nude on the bed. He gulps like a teenager. She preens. 

Without prompting, Peter drops his head and latches his mouth around her breast, sucking it into his mouth. Michelle sharply gasps. Her hand curls in his hair, gripping him close and she can feel how he smiles around her nipple. It is sexy and she feels her stomach heat and churn. She lifts her leg around his backside, anchoring him to her body, and knocks her hips upwards in a silent plea. 

Peter pops off of her breast, leaving her chest wet and wanting for his touch. "Fuck," he husks. His hand closes over her unattended breasts and he kneads it in his palm. "Fuck, MJ, just look at you." She lifts her hips, again, impatiently and he laughs. "I'm getting there," he reassures her, "I promise." 

He leaves a hurried kiss on her pouting mouth before his face begins to crawl down the length of her body. His lips are not idle. They traverse every available inch of skin. Michelle Jones had never considered how erogenous the skin on the underside of her breasts were, but now that she knows she doesn't know if she can ever unlearn it. 

His nuzzles her hipbones and she turns liquid. She reforms into person when his mouth closes over her clit and sucks. She stifles a cry into her hand and closes her legs around the back of his neck, latching the pair of them together in a clumsy heap on their hotel bed. It is better than words can express, so she says nothing at all. 

Peter Parker is filled with such enthusiasm for her body. His greedy hands palm at the thighs that box in his head as he licks at her. Michelle squirms, chasing something illusive, and he doesn't try to restrain her. He likes her wild, she can tell, and she is a wild slip of a girl. Others, everyone before him, tried to keep her down, make her feel less-than, but she is a force as mighty as ocean storms. She cannot be contained. 

She bucks against his face. He groans in delight. 

Michelle claws at the sheets, scrambling for purchase, as the lightening in her body continues to climb and draw tight. She is thrilled by the pleasure that swirls in her bloodstream and reaches her toes. Her hips thrust against his face and noises start to bounce off the thin walls of their hotel room. Delayed, she notices those cries are her own. 

She strains and stills, her mouth dropped open in something akin to ecstasy, as she becomes the storm and it overtakes her all at once. He stays with her through it all, holding onto the thighs like an anchor in her storm. 

When she can breathe and think and see, again, she hoarsely commands,   "Take this off." 

He follows orders _spectacularly_. 

* * *

Light peaks through the off-white blinds the next morning and the sunshine tickles Michelle awake. She feels pressed down by a heavy arm draped over her naked chest. She squints one eye open and spots Peter cupping her breast in his sleep. She does not have the heart to brush him off. She curls back into his body, snuggling closer, and closes her eyes, willfully ignoring the sunlight.

"If you keep wiggling like that, we're going to have problems," Peter's tired voice croaks into her ear.

Michelle yawns, "Would that be so bad?" 

Peter squeezes her breast, "No, I suppose not." 

She bites her lip to contain her smile. Michelle rolls over in his arms and, when they are face-to-face, she feels like the sunlight that filters through the windows. He looks at her like she just might be it, too. Peter closes the distance between them in a gentle kiss. It doesn't matter that their breath is stale. "Good morning," he whispers. 

"Good morning." 

His eyebrows furrow and she knows, at once, that he is thinking about the circumstances of their meeting. "MJ--" he starts...

...but she shushes him with a kiss. "We'll figure it out," she says. 

"I want to be with you," he admits. 

"I want to be with you, too," she replies.

He looks surprised and stunned and then finally relieved. "Really?" 

She nods, "Really, really." 

Michelle does not have all the answers. Peter Parker is complicated. He is more complicated than her ex-fiancés’ wedding to her half-sister. But it has been so long since she has put her own happiness before anything else-- people's expectation, her family's wishes, everything-- that she thinks she deserves a bit of a happy ending. 

And when Peter rolls her body on top of his, carding his fingers into her curls and drawing her mouth down into another kiss, he feels like he might just be it. 


End file.
